


To Live Without Regret

by Fatally_Procrastinating



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatally_Procrastinating/pseuds/Fatally_Procrastinating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Alistair comes by Skyhold for negotiations between Ferelden and Orlais where he meets up with a few people from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Warden and Inquisitor belong to therealmcgee.

Cullen relaxed against the railing, grateful he’d found a spot away from the visiting nobles. Despite his numerous attempts to shake the Orlesians, they were better at tracking than a bloodhound—the fact that Leliana had started a rumor that he might accept someone’s proposal if they came to the summit didn’t help matters. He didn’t care if it made the negotiations easier or not: waking up to a nobleman and three young women sorting through his underclothes was too high a price.

Letting out something between a sigh and a groan, his eyes drifted lazily through the room. He smiled at the clear divide between the two factions of the summit. The Orlesians were all glittering masks and laced dresses with cloths pressed to their noses in thinly veiled disdain. The Fereldens, on the other hand, were furs and leather and tankards of ale that made one laugh from the belly up.

Cullen grinned when his gaze fell on Ava. In the flickering torchlight, her hair reminded him of the pumpkins he used to carry to his mother from their garden. Surrounded by nobles on both sides, she hid her frustration well. She smiled in the right places, refused no one—but he saw the electricity sparking in the hand she kept behind her back.

“Didn’t your hair used to be curly?”

“What?” Cullen’s voice carried a snarl. He turned to glare at whomever dared to interrupt him but instantly straightened. “Your Majesty, I… please forgive me: I didn’t know it was you.”

Alistair waved a dismissive hand. “It’s my fault; I was looking for a place to escape for a while and Leliana had mentioned—well, I won’t bore you with the details. Besides, we know each other, sort of.”

“Yes, I suppose we do.” Cullen cleared his throat and looked away. He would’ve preferred it if the King had forgotten his involvement in the Circle. Shame pricked his ears as he remembered his desire for Annulment, his harsh words to the man and woman who would become his monarchs.

Alistair stood beside him, arms flopping over the banister. “So,” he said, “your hair. It  _was_  curly, wasn’t it? I’m sure it was. I remember standing there, wondering how many combs you’d broken trying to work out that mess.”

“Only one and it wasn’t my fault.” Cullen laughed, his shoulders easing. “How are the negotiations going?”

“About as well as you’d expect. The Orlesians have fine cheeses stuffed all the way up their very snobby noses. That ambassador of yours is a marvel though. She actually got one of the nobles to pet a Mabari. Never thought I’d live to see that.”

“We are rather lucky to have her,” Cullen muttered, his attention drifting back to the Inquisitor below. She was rubbing the scar over her right ear like she always did when she was stressed. He leaned further over and grinned when she glanced his way.

He loved the way the tattoo around her eye crinkled when she smiled.

Cullen looked towards the door, intent on pulling her to a more private corner—he jumped when he found the King’s smirking face a few inches away.

“Not  _so_ anti-mage now I see.” Alistair’s eyes flicked towards Ava and his smirk grew feral. “Or are your eyes glued to her swaying hips because you fear they’ll summon a demon?”

“I–I wasn’t,” Cullen stuttered. “They weren’t. I mean…” His cheeks burned. “Our Inquisitor is a very fine woman with very fine features—I mean, her features like her… her bravery and dedication and— _Maker’s breath_.”

Alistair slapped a hand on Cullen’s shoulder and laughed. “I think you might be even worse than I was. Word of caution: _never_  ask a woman if she’s actually a woman. It doesn’t sound so bad in your head but it turns out that they really don’t like it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Leliana didn’t mention that I once…? Never mind then.” Alistair cleared his throat and turned to the crowd. “Your Inquisitor is rather beautiful. She’s nowhere  _near_  my wife, of course. Oh, don’t glare at me like that, no one can come near Elia. You saw her: you should know that.”

“That was a brief moment ten years ago.”

“Yes, and she’s only grown more ravishing by the day.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow when the other man suddenly groaned, his head drooping down against his chest.

“Are you all right?”

“No.” Alistair ran a hand through his hair, his eyes traveling far beyond the wall he stared at. “Being without her for two years has been… trying, to say the least. I knew why she had to leave, I knew she was right: that didn’t stop me from being angry. I should’ve… I was a fool for how I behaved. And now all I have is a handful of letters to—” He broke off with a shake of his head. “Sometimes I wonder if things would be better if I’d remained a Warden. Then I might have been able to stay at her side.”

Cullen watched him struggle. He could barely hold out two weeks whenever Ava left on a mission. And that was knowing she had others by her side. To see her ride off alone, to have no idea if she was safe—if she was  _alive…_

“Tell me about Elia,” Cullen said at last.

“She’s… she’s  _wonderful_.” The torment is Alistair’s face melted into a wistful smile. “What she did at the Circle was only the start. She made peace where there’d been war, saved countless lives—Redcliffe would be little more than ash without her.  _She_ was the one worthy enough to make it through the Temple of Sacred Ashes unharmed, not the scholar what’s-his-face. Graceful, kind, brave: the stories that the bards sing don’t do her justice. Ferelden is better with her as its Queen.  _I’m_ better with her.”

His head drew up and he gave Cullen an apologetic smile. “Forgive me. I’ve been told several times that I tend to go on when it comes to Elia.”

“No. I understand.”

Alistair chuckled softly. “You probably do.” He paused, then said, “Tell me, Commander, does it eat you up inside too?”

“What’s that?”

“Watching her walk away and knowing that no matter how good she is, no matter prepared she might be, there’s always a chance that she won’t be coming back to you.”

“I…” Cullen stared at Ava, his heart clenching when she laughed at something Josephine said. His hand on the railing tightened into a fist. “It’s  _agony_. Every scout’s report, every rider-less horse—even when she’s here, she risks assassins, traitors, accidents. I tried assigning a guard to her once: they lost track of her after an  _hour_.”

Alistair’s head fell back with his laughter. “I tried something like that once. It was a pair of men Zevran knew, supposedly the best bodyguards gold could buy. Elia looked me dead in the eye and said,  _they can guard me if they can catch me_ before slipping out the door. Never saw either man again.”

Cullen snickered. His eyes returned to Ava as though she had pulled them to her. By the main fire, her hair darkened to burning red like the sunsets he saw in his tower.

“If it’s not too forward of me,” Alistair said, “might I offer a piece of advice on your beloved Inquisitor?”

Cullen arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t about to say no to his own King. “If you’d like.”

“Don’t waste a single moment on doubt or fear. If you think she’s beautiful, say so. If you  _love_  her, tell her every chance you get. No one knows what’s coming later but if you waste what you have now, you’ll regret it. And you’ll never stop regretting it.” 

“You make it sound easy.”

“Easy?” Alistair scoffed. “It’s one of the hardest things in the world. Especially the stage you’re in—not knowing if she feels the same, constantly wondering why she picked you when you know she deserves better.”

“You felt that way too?”

“Every time she looked at me. But I learned a long time ago that when it comes to things like this, sometimes it’s better to be just a little bit weak, to give in to what you want.”

“And if she doesn’t want the same thing?” Cullen asked.

“Then at least you’ll know.”

Cullen grumbled under his breath, his cheeks warming at the thought of telling Ava what she meant to him. “I… I suppose you’re right. Thank you… Your Highness.”

Alistair chuckled and gave him a nudge in the arm. “Go on then.”

“What— _now_?”

“Why not?”

“I—but—she’s busy and surrounded by people and…”

“And?” Alistair prompted.

Cullen shot the man a muted glare before straightening his back. A stiff bow later, he took the stairs to the main hall. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as neared Ava. He couldn’t tell her in front of everyone. Not like this.

“Inquisitor?”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling when she looked at him.

“I, um—” He cleared his throat. Heat crept up his neck. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you might have some time later to discuss something. With me. In private. Tonight.”

Her blush swept across her face until her freckles had all but disappeared. “I’d like that.”

“You would?”

Ava’s cheeks darkened with her nod.

“That’s—that’s good then.” He rubbed his neck, struggling to keep his grin contained. “How about my office?” He could order the men to keep any of the visiting nobles at bay. “I’ll bring some wine.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Cullen smiled and stepped closer. The growing twists in his stomach were agonizingly delightful. “Then I’ll see you tonight.” He leaned in, brushing his lips to her cheek is the briefest of kisses.

* * *

 

Alistair smirked down at the blushing couple. He chuckled to himself, more than tempted to yell  _Get a room, already!_ at their flustered antics.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, do you have a moment?”

Alistair sneered at the accent and wondered which of the nobles had found him so quickly. He turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. It’s you. I hope you didn’t come here to tell me that you sided with evil magisters again.”

The tips of the woman’s ears went red and she looked down at her feet.

Alistair sighed as guilt nipped at his neck. “Forgive me, Grand Enchanter, it’s been a very trying few days.”

“Fiona, please. My title means little without the Circle.”

“Of course.” He glanced her over. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her—beyond their brief moments at Redcliffe. “Was there something you wished to discuss?”

“Yes, I…” Fiona wrung her hands and took a few steps closer to him. “I just wanted to say that despite what happened with the mages that I… that Ferelden has been very fortunate to have you as its King. I believe your father would be proud to see what you’ve accomplished.”

Alistair blinked, caught off guard by her earnest tone. “You knew my father?”

“Yes, back when I was a Warden.”

“A Warden?  _You_  were a Grey Warden?”

“That’s right.”

“How does a Grey Warden become Grand Enchanter? For that matter, why weren’t you at Adamant with the others?”

Her eyes widened. “Duncan didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?” His teeth were starting to grind on all the questions.

“He was with me when…” Fiona shook her head. “When I was still among the other Wardens, the taint in my blood simply vanished.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know,” she said. “But it’s what happened.”

“So, you’re what, cured? Just like that? The Calling has no effect on you?”

Alistair grabbed her by the arms when she nodded, his eyes widening. Elia was scouring the world for the answers and the biggest clue was standing right in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to relax his grip. “It’s just that my wife—you know, the hero and Queen of Ferelden, you may have heard of her—is searching for something to circumvent the Calling. If you know anything at all, even the smallest detail could help her.”

Fiona’s eyebrows raised. “I believe I already answered all the questions she had.”

“Oh… I see.” He let her go with a sigh and started to lean against the railing when her words clicked in his head. “What did you just say?”

“I already answered her questions?”

“When?”

“I, uh—less than five minutes past, I think.”

Alistair’s breath froze in his lungs. “Where is she?”

“She was in the war room, discussing something with Mistress Leliana.”

“In this keep?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Yes?”

Alistair clasped the woman’s cheeks inside his hands as he smacked his lips to her forehead. “Thank you!” He took off at a run. He was at the door when he stopped to turn back. “Um, which direction is that room in?”

Fiona’s cheeks were flushed and she had a hand pressed to the spot where he’d kissed her. “It’s, uh, over there, Your Majesty.”

He peaked over edge to the door in question, tempted to simply leap onto the nobles below. They’d break his fall, right? And it wasn’t like they could complain: he was  _King_. With a grunt, he dismissed the idea and bolted down the stairs instead.

“Move!” he yelled as he barreled through the chatting groups. He nearly tripped on a woman’s dress, catching himself inches before his face smashed into the floor. “My apologies, madam!” he called over his shoulder as he tore to the door Fiona had indicated. He pushed past the door. Then another. He glared at the hallway that continued to stretch on.

With a great heave, he forced the large double doors open.

Leliana was facing him, barely changed by the years that had passed. She had her hands splayed on the map spread out before her. Across from Leliana stood a hooded figure with a set of knives beside their hand.

 _Maker, let it be her_.

“Elia?”

The figure stiffened. He took a hesitant step forward.

“ _Elia_?” he asked again.

The hood fell away as the woman turned. Rich auburn hair spilled down around her shoulders, free from the usual bun she wore. His heart ached to look at her. There was so much that had changed—her skin was a shade darker, faint wrinkles lined her eyes, a new scar on her neck. But she had the same hazel eyes that laughed when she smile. The same dimples that made him weak in the knees.

“Alistair?”

“Elia.”

“Alistair!”

He was running to her. She laughed, sprinting towards his outstretched arms. He caught her mid-jump. Burying his face into her neck, he squeezed her tight as he dared. Her legs wrapped around his hips while she covered his cheeks with her lips.

“Is it really you?” she asked.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

She grinned and kissed him, fingers wandering through his hair. He groaned at the taste of her—like spices and steel. Two years. Two long, forsaken years without her.

Elia pulled away softly and turned in his arms towards Leliana. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“And rob myself of seeing a moment like this?” The spymaster laughed. “I think not.”

“You are a bad, bad woman,” Alistair told her. “If Elia and I ever get married again, you won’t be asked to sing at the wedding.”

“Again?” Elia frowned. “Why would we be parting in this little scenario of yours?”

“We wouldn’t. We’d just get married twice. That’s a thing, right? I’ve heard of people doing that.”

She laughed and kissed him again. He pressed her closer, supporting her in one arm so his other hand was free to roam her back and touch her face. He had to be sure, to feel with his own hands that she was real.

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed when they eased apart. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“It hasn’t been  _that_  long, my love.”

“Two years has been an eternity without you.” He frowned when her face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Leliana left.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Her cheeks warmed to a rosy pink. She glanced behind her. “You know, there’s a table over there. Might help free up your other hand.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think my hand is quite content to grip your lovely hindquarters.”

Elia grinned, letting her forehead rest on his. “Leliana told me about Adamant. About Corypheus. The Calling, it’s not…  _we’re_ not…”

“No, my dearest. Not yet.” He kissed her again, slow and lingering this time, smiling at how easy it felt to be with her again. They had time. Less than before, perhaps, but he’d take every day he could get.

“Is that why you’re here?” Alistair asked after he’d given each of her lips the proper attention that they’d deserved. “To help with the other Wardens?”

“No. I found out that High Dragons can fight off the blight within their own bodies. Not permanently of course, but it was a start. And when I heard that the Inquisition was researching it—Leliana said she might have leads that could help me… then there was that Fiona woman and…” her words trailed off with a soft laugh. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

His chest tightened. “You’ll still be here later?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“I’ll be here.”

“And tomorrow?”

She laughed and brought up a hand to caress his cheek. “I’ll be here.”

“And the day after that?”

“I’ll be here,” Elia whispered against his lips.

Alistair grinned as he started walking towards the large oak table. “Did Leliana happen to mention if anyone else would be coming in here?”

His wife smirked, already tugging at the straps on his coat. “No, but I have the oddest impression that anyone who might try would end up getting pecked to death by birds.”

Alistair laid her down, hands returning to where he’d touched her on their last night together. He claimed her mouth in a kiss, hands traveling the length of her body, eager to find what had changed. When his touches earned a moan, he pulled away and grinned. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

Elia laughed as she tugged him on top of her, the rest of their conversation melting away as they started to make up for lost time.


	2. To Live Without Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes King Alistair’s advice about confessing to the Inquisitor but the royal couple only ends up getting in the way.

Cullen glared at the small table he’d set up in his office. Pastries, chocolate, wine, flowers, candlelight. His cheeks burn and his stomach twisted in anticipation. Would Ava even like all of this? His sisters had seemed to enjoy these kinds of gifts when he was growing up and the salesman in Val Royeaux had guaranteed any woman would appreciate such things but staring at it now…

This whole thing was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Wiping, the sweat from his palms against the front of his trousers, he wondered if he could hide the sappy mess before she arrived. Taking out one of the drawers from his desk, he picked up the tray of chocolates to dump them inside when a knock came at the door.

“Just a moment!” Cullen cursed softly, tripping over a stack of books as he hurried to return everything to normal. He rushed to the door and cleared his throat. He did a quick once over of himself: hair slicked back, a formal shirt tucked into his cut trousers, nice breath.

“I’m so glad you could—” His grin fell to a muted glare when he saw the man on the other side. Bowing his head in an attempt to hide the hostility in his eyes, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Your Majesty.”

“Majesties, actually,” Alistair said and Cullen glanced up to see a woman at his side, half-cloaked in shadow. “This is my wife, Elia. You remember me telling you about her earlier, don’t you? Elia Cousland. Defeater of the fifth Blight. Queen. Indestructible Goddess. Did I mention she’s my wife?” He chuckled when the woman nudged him in the side before pressing his lips to her cheek.

“Your Majesties,” Cullen corrected in a mumble, doing his best to give the woman a proper bow. He stared past their shoulders. Had Ava changed her mind? The knots in his stomach tightened at the thought. “Is there something I can do for—”

“Wasn’t your hair curly before?” Elia asked.

“That’s exactly what  _I_  said!”

Cullen’s eye twitched. “Is there something I can do for you,  _Your Majesties?_ ” His annoyance was starting to leak through in his tone.

“We came here to watch,” Alistair said, striding into the room with Elia nearly glued at his side. “Hmm. No cheeses. Pity.” He picked one of chocolates up and popped it into his mouth.

“I—” Cullen bit down on his lip to try and contain his scowl. Anyone else, he could throw out. But this was his  _King_. He turned back to the battlements, searching for Ava in the darkness. “Help yourself,” he muttered over his shoulder. “Wait. What do you mean you came to watch?”

“You’re taking my advice, aren’t you? Wooing your fair lady?” Alistair gesture to the table even as Elia began to pick her way through the pastries. “Did you think I was going to miss out on the fun?”

“Absolutely not! Your Majesty,” he added the title hastily when Alistair arched an eyebrow. “This is a private matter between the Inquisitor and myself. I don’t want—”

“Cullen?”

He paled at the soft knock that came from the door behind him.

“Is it all right to come in?”

“Get out,” Cullen hissed to Alistair, motioning to the open door on his left. Andraste take him; why had he chosen the office? There were so many other rooms in the keep with only a single door to worry about. “That’s not— _get out!_ ”

Elia had shot him a wink before scampering up the ladder and disappearing into the loft above.

“Don’t mess things up with your Inquisitor,” Alistair whispered before clambering behind her.

“Get down from—”

“Cullen?” Ava called again, her knock a little louder this time.

Cullen glared through the missing boards above his head where two sets of eyes were peeking out at him. “Coming, Ava,” he said, cheeks burning as he walked to the door. This was going to be hard enough already, never mind the unexpected audience. Trying to ignore the faint giggling above his head, he marched to the door.

His jaw fell when he saw her. In place of her usual mage robes, she wore a simple ice-blue frock with golden thread: it matched her eyes and made them glow in the candlelight. Her hair was braided to the side, save for a few strands that curled stubbornly away from the rest. Cullen licked his lips, fingers twitching to tuck the hair into place as he kissed the warm skin of cheek. His gaze fell to her puckered mouth with his thoughts. Her lips were full and carried the soft shine of gloss.  _Maker’s breath_. He was sure that if his heart pounded any harder, it would beat right out of chest.

“You look—” He cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “You look beautiful, Ava.”

“Thank you.” She flushed hard enough to make her freckles disappear and he found his lips tugging up into a grin. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” He scrambled out of her way.

She was three steps inside when a creak from above reminded him of their additional guests.

“I mean,” he said, “it’s such a lovely night. Perhaps a walk around the battlements?”

“Right now?” Her face pulled inward with a frown as she sat at the table. The arrangement was somewhat less impressive with half of the sweets gone and he could’ve sworn the bouquet was one rose short. “But you’re already prepared all of this. You don’t want to enjoy it?”

“I do. That is, I would enjoy any time that I got to spend with you.”

She smiled again and his stomach flipped.

 _I love you_. He wanted to say it, to sing it, to shout it out for everyone.

“Then can we stay here?” she asked. “Please?”

Cullen’s jaw clenched. What was he supposed to say? The Queen and King of Ferelden climbed up the ladder after they stole my treats? He could hardly believe it himself.

“As you wish,” he said with a light sigh. Taking his place across from her. His face relaxed in a smile when she pressed the flowers to her nose, her eyes closing with a deep inhale.

“They’re lovely.”

“Yes,” he murmured, gaze flickering between her pale eyes and soft lips. Lovely.

“You did all of this for me?”

He chuckled and poured them each a glass of wine. “This is hardly anything extraordinary.” In fact, looking at it now, he felt childish, cheap. Anyone could’ve done this for her. Many nobles  _had_ done this, along with gifts of fine silks and great steeds, jewels and precious metals. This was… pathetic.

Cullen blinked when her hand wrapped around his. “I love it, Cullen.”

“I…” He threaded their fingers together before leaning over to brush his lips across her knuckles. _I love you, Ava_. “I’m glad you like it.”

She flushed and took a sip of her wine even as her thumb rubbed along the back of his hand.  “There was, um—earlier, you said you had something to discuss?”

“I did. I mean, I do.” He squeezed her fingers tight. “Ava…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you that—” The words thickened in his throat. Doubt seeped into his heart. Was this too fast? Too much? Kisses on the battlements. Stolen, quiet moments in the library. Was it enough?

“Yes?” she prompted, shifting forward across the table.

“I—” Cullen blinked when he heard a long, low creak from above. Determined to ignore it, he started again when another creak came. And another. And another. His cheeks burned when he caught the beginnings of a stifled moan.

His free hand gripped the edge of the table as a potent mix of anger and embarrassment swept through him. His mind raced as she tried to conjure an explanation but his thoughts scattered when Ava kissed him. Cullen’s lips moved on instinct, molding and moving against her own, savoring the traces of chocolate on her tongue.

“Not here,” he murmured, pulling away. Another creak and his blush burned down his neck. Could the royal pair not have waited ten more minutes?!

“Why?” She asked. She shifted around the table and began kissing along his jaw. Cullen’s eyes fluttered shut when she nipped his ear. “I…” He felt the growing heat of her skin as she nuzzled against him. “I want you, Cullen. I want to  _be_ with you.”

He bit his lip, cursing the unlucky stars he must’ve been born under to wind up in a situation like this. “I want that too,” he whispered, lips soft and slow against hers despite the desire to pin her to the wall and feel the heat of her body, despite his need to kiss her skin until the feeling of his lips was all she could remember, despite wanting to hear his name on her tongue when she screamed out in pleasure. “But not here. Not now.”

Ava pulled away, looking as though he’d slapped her. “I thought that you—never mind. I understand, Cullen.” She gathered the flowers in her hands. Her chin wavered for a fraction of a second before she smiled. “I’ll see you later, Commander.”

“Ava, wait.” Cullen rose to follow her as she all but ran through the door. He tugged at the latch but the door held fast. Frost had crept inside the metal, freezing it shut. He glared up at the boards for a moment, wishing he’d punched the other ex-Templar when he’d had the chance ten years ago. Muttering curses at them under his breath, he tore through the other door. “Ava!”

She’d already disappeared from the battlements. Cullen broke into a sprint, stumbling past a very confused Solas. The main hall was buzzing with nobles and chatter, heads turning towards the door up to Ava’s chambers. Cullen slowed his pace to avoid tripping over the legs that jutted out.

“Josephine,” he called to the woman as he passed, “please make a note that the King and Queen of Ferelden owe me a new bed.”

“I—what?”

“I’ll explain later,” he grumbled. “Or not, really. They can tell you if they wish.” He left her there with a puzzled expression, marching past the Orlesians as he went straight to Ava’s door. How was he going to make this up to her? He should’ve insisted on speaking somewhere else the moment Alistair and his wife had disappeared up his loft.

“Damn it.” He picked up his speed again, the stairs stretching on for a painful eternity before he finally reached her door. “Ava, please let me explain: I swear to you that it’s not… what you… think…”

Cullen’s jaw fell for the second time that night. She stood before him in nothing but her smalls and a sheer shift; her dress left in a forgotten heap on the floor. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve—I meant to—please forgive me!” He turned on his heel, cheeks burning as he headed back down.

“Wait.”

He froze. His ears burned as her footsteps drew closer. Bringing a hand to his eyes, he shielded her from his sight, feeling like he’d stolen something private.

Ava moved his arm down with the barest brush of her fingers. “It’s all right,” she said. “Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to—” His jaw snapped shut when his eyes dropped down towards the swell of her pale breasts. His cheeks burned as he forced his face towards the ceiling. “I, um…” His fingers clenched as he fought the urge to hold her. “That is—I wanted to explain what I meant.” His eyes carefully lowered, determined to not blunder up any more than he already had. “My refusal: it wasn’t what you think. I  _do_  want to be with you in that way. In fact, I want it more than I should probably admit.”

He took her hand, holding it tight before he brought her fingers up to his lips. He kissed each fingertip and every knuckle. “I know that my being an ex-Templar hasn’t always made things easy between us, but what I feel for you, Ava…” he gripped her hand tighter, focusing on the creases of skin along the knuckles. He’d never get it out if he didn’t say it now. “I love you. Maker preserve me; my knees grow weak every time I’m near you. I can hardly think of anything else when you’re around me. The very thought of being without you makes me ill and the truth is: I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Ava, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

He checked her expression from beneath his lashes. Shocked: mouth open, eyes glassed over.

Cullen faltered. “I–it’s all right if you don’t feel the same way. I didn’t mean to pressure you, I just—”

Ava’s lips were hot and eager, her arms tight around him, fingers in his hair. She sighed his name when he ran his tongue along her lower up. “I love you too, Cullen.”

He grinned against her lips, kissing her harder, a hand on her lower back as he pressed their bodies together. She loved him. She  _loved_ him.

Ava gasped, then laughed as he swung her up into his arms.

“Is it…” He glanced to the bed then back to her. “I mean, are wegoing to…?”

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford.” Ava beamed at him, fingers toying with a loose curl of his hair. “If you don’t put me on that bed and rip off the rest of my clothes in the next ten seconds, I’m going to be very cross with you.”

Cullen’s cheeks ached with his smile as he kissed her. “As you wish, my love.” 


End file.
